


bittersweet, bittersweet

by 0eu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0eu/pseuds/0eu
Summary: “Excuse me, I’d like a Mideel Layered Chocolate Delight and a medium cream cheese macchi—” Sephiroth tries to repeat, but his order is cut short by the edge of a serrated steak knife, pressed tightly to the column of his throat.
Relationships: Sephiroth & Cloud Strife, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	bittersweet, bittersweet

A thousand years after Meteorfall, the tale of Cloud Strife and Sephiroth’s fateful clash has long faded into legend, a story told and passed down through generations of families. After all, the spirits of great heroes live forevermore within the hearts of their revering believers and the gilded monuments of old shine bright even in the darkest hours. Some whisper, under the dim glow of night lights and torches, that Cloud Strife walks among mortals even now, a silent, invisible protector of the planet, ever ready to launch into action lest the powers of evil rise once more in the world.

And in a fashionable district of the city of Edge, on a narrow, sunlit street lined with fresh blooms and greenery, the fabled hero Cloud Strife scowls as he grinds a batch of premium Mideel coffee beans for the latest patron of the quaint cafe. 

_Ta-tap, ta-tap, ta-tap,_ the customer’s heel clicks noisily on the polished light beech floorboards, annoyingly off-beat from the melody of birdsong streaming through the latticed windows of the shop.

“Hurry up, kiddo. I got places to go, people to meet. I don’t have time to waste,” the lady drawls, making a point of checking her expensive-looking watch, glinting as the gold band catches the overhead spotlights. “If you make this damn coffee any slower than you’re doing right now, you won’t have a job by tomorrow morning.”

Cloud resists the urge to roll his eyes, barely concealing his annoyance as he presents the pompous customer with a steaming cup of the 7th Heaven Cafe’s signature espresso. 

“Here you are, ma’am. Have a wonderful day,” he recites, forcing a smile—not quite polite, but adequate. Cloud’s been rather proud of his progress on developing his patience as of late; if he were still his old, quick-tempered self, the poor woman might have been sans an arm or two within a couple of seconds. But alas, Cloud feels the absence of his trusty swords like a phantom limb. The managers wouldn’t be happy to see their employees brandish enormous broadswords around the modestly sized cafe.

“Hmph.” The woman snatches the drink from the counter without a single word of thanks, and storms off, slamming the door of the coffee shop behind her. The wind chimes jingle angrily, as if indignant at the customer’s appalling behaviour. 

_It’s funny,_ Cloud thinks, _How in Gaia’s name did I go from being lauded as the saviour of the world, to being a lowly retail worker in a minimum wage paying job?_

It’s a rather absurd question to ask. Humans are always subject to the whims of the Lifestream, and as such, the Planet has deemed it necessary (whether as entertainment, or otherwise) to bring back Cloud Strife from the clutches of his peaceful death and thrust him back into the frantic hustle and bustle of a new, foreign generation, where he’s left to flounder and ponder the meaning of his rebirth. As a _barista_ , no less. 

_Why? Why was I brought back?_

Has Sephiroth and his trio of Jenova clones again surfaced in this seemingly peaceful world? Or have the WEAPONs—the half-mechanical, half-magical eldritch abominations of a bygone era—been awakened? No matter the cause, Cloud knows there’s a reason for his resurrection. Something vile and wicked must be lurking close to the joyous, vibrant city, preparing to sink its claws of chaos into the flesh of the unsuspecting humans. As said by the great philosophers of his time: darkness never strays far from light.

The shop’s entrance crashes open, revealing a tall, silver-haired man with a remarkably terrifying frown.

And as said by the great hero Cloud Strife: asshole customers never stray far from 7th Heaven Cafe.

Expecting this new man to be his average middle-upper class jerk, Cloud turns to his phone for a well-deserved break from the never-ending conga line of scumbags… until he catches the eye of the new customer.

A bright, unnatural green. Slit pupils, like a snake’s. 

Long, unnaturally silver hair, styled in an elegant middle part.

He was an uncanny facsimile of the villain that tormented the Planet a thousand years prior.

Thoughts—questions—began to tumble through Cloud’s mind as every part of his being is thrown into a fight-or-flight state for the first time in this current life.

_Is that Sephiroth?_

_Why is Sephiroth here? He should be dead._

_Is Sephiroth here to kill me?_

A deep voice interrupts Cloud’s panic-stricken train of thought.

“Uh. How much is this cupcake?” The man (Sephiroth?) asks, tapping a finger gently against the display case of pastries and other baked delights under the countertop.

_This must be a devious trick. A riddle for children and ignorant mortals. But fine, I’ll indulge in your little game before I banish you from this world once again,_ Cloud thinks.

He checks the menu, and replies, “700 gil. But in conjunction with our Cake and Coffee deal, you can get both items for _only_ 500 gil. We have more pastries around this side, too.” Cloud gestures to the gaudy display of fruit tarts and sweet pies.

Customer service smile? Customer service voice? Check and check. Hopefully, this will distract the bastard long enough for Cloud to call his sword from within the Lifestream’s ethereal dimension, and sink it deep through Sephiroth’s body and into his blackened heart.

On the other side of the counter, Sephiroth seems to consider the offer seriously, carefully scanning each delicate item placed along the glass shelves.

“Well, then, could I have the…” He peers at the cake’s label. “...Mideel Layered Chocolate Delight, please? And a medium cream cheese macchiato with seven pumps of caramel syrup?”

That’s it? No proclamations of murderous intent? No deadly blade pointed against his chest? Could Cloud be mistaken about the mysterious man’s identity?

The residues of memory from the LIfestream are evidence enough. This man—Sephiroth—left a distinct imprint on the soul of the Planet: a gaping and bloody gash on the world’s life force, and even now, Gaia’s cries of pain still echo silently through Cloud’s mind. He realises now, with Sephiroth standing not two metres from himself, that this must be precisely the reason the Planet has called him forth into the realm of living. 

“Excuse me, I’d like a Mideel Layered Chocolate Delight and a medium cream cheese macchi—” Sephiroth tries to repeat, but his order is cut short by the edge of a serrated steak knife, pressed tightly to the column of his throat. 

Cloud adjusts his grip on the blade and glares. “Why have you come, Sephiroth? Why do you want me to kill you so badly? Were the first three times not enough?” he mutters through gritted teeth. “...The world is better off without someone like you strutting ‘round, summoning extraterrestrial monsters and meteors, or whatever. Why won’t you stay _dead?_ ” 

The man blinks his glowing snake’s eyes, and stares back at Cloud, as if genuinely confused by his outburst.

“I, uh, apologise. Have we met before? Did I do something wrong?” 

_What?_

Taken aback by his response, Cloud’s hand trembles, and the knife slips easily from his fingers, clattering noisily as it crashes and slides across the marble countertop. “Um, sorry. I thought you were… someone else.” The image of Sephiroth’s deranged smirk comes to mind. 

“Oh.” He rubs at the reddened line on his neck. “How did you know my name, then?”

Cloud doesn’t answer the man, and instead busies himself with making the coffee on the other side of the cafe, thoughts racing in a desperate attempt to make sense of the situation.

If this man is, in fact, not the same one that Cloud slew on that destined day, then why is the Planet’s voice screaming in the back of his head to put an end to this stranger? He chances a peek at the man. It was honestly frightening, how much he resembled the monster who almost brought about the destruction of the Planet. From his appearance, right down to the way he walked and carried himself. 

Something was peculiar, though. This “Sephiroth” had none of the bloodthirsty aurae that had rolled off from the real Sephiroth in cascades of killing intent.

Cloud knows he’s going to be restless for the next month, remembering that this strange guy is going to be strolling around town as he sleeps, who—however unlikely—may be a war criminal and a mass murderer.

_Whatever. That’s a problem for the future me, I guess._

Smiling half-heartedly, Cloud hands the not-Sephiroth his dessert and drink. “Here’s your order, sir. Sorry about what happened earlier, but I hope you have a nice day, regardless.”

“Thank you,” the man squints at the nametag pinned to his lacy apron, “Cloud.”

He nods in acknowledgement as the man exits the coffee shop with a pleasant wave. Somehow, Cloud manages to maintain his composure for ten more seconds before slumping against the glass display case, suddenly exhausted. His eyes flutter closed as he tries to process the last fifteen minutes of his life.

_Huh._

_Why wasn’t he afraid when I put a knife to his throat?_

**Author's Note:**

> ff7r coming out soon might make me update this but whew. idk  
> if you came here expecting a longfic im so sorry. i am SO sorry


End file.
